The Breadboy and The Hunter
by PurpleProbie22
Summary: Collections of drabbles and oneshots revolving around Katniss and Peeta's relationship in various settings and genres. #2: Post-Mockingjay. The daughter of the Mockingjay is born, and so is their new hope. Katniss and Peeta knows they'll be alright.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: The fir__st story of m__y collections of drabbles/oneshots around Katniss and Peeta's life__. I hope you guys enjoy it (:_

**Setting/timeline: **AU, pre-games.

**Characters/Pairings: **Peeta/Katniss, mentions of Gale/Katniss, Prim

**Rating: **K

**Genre: **Romance/Friendship/Humor

**Warnings: **Nothing, I guess. It's just a bunch of fluff. And maybe some grammatical errors because this one wasn't beta'd.

**Wordcount: **827

**Summary: **She has always managed to distract his attention in many ways without even realizing it. This time, it ends with another two burnt breads, a burn wound, two tubes of ointment, and a golden ticket for a date with a certain Everdeen girl. Thank goodness younger Everdeen was around to heal his wound...

* * *

><p><strong>"Hobbies... and Stuff<strong>"

"I always make those cookies," Peeta says nervously, albeit proudly, breaking the silence between us. He moves his arm subsconsciously, which only makes him wince. He continues, though, "You know… the ones that your sister was looking at earlier."

"Oh," I say, "I… uh, I hunt." I bite my lip. "In the woods."

He nods. "Yeah. I know. My father loves your squirrels—he's so impressed with your ability to shoot them perfectly, right in the eye. He always trades it with our best bread in the bakery, because the squirrels are really his favorites."

It's now my turn to nod. Very awkwardly, I might add.

He glances a few times at the front door, making sure that his witch of a mother hasn't come home yet.

"So, um, you have any hobbies? Besides hunting?" he asks out of nowhere, probably annoyed by my silence. Huh, I never thought the boy was such a talker.

I crunch my eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't think so."

"Really?" he says, surprised. "Well… I kinda love painting. I mean, it's not that different with frosting cakes, so I enjoy it a lot," he says. And then he frowns, "You really don't have any hobbies?"

I shrug, playing with my nails. "Unless you count watching Gale make snares and seeing animals get caught… or climbing wild trees, I guess I don't have one." And those are definitely not a hobby.

"Right." He rubs the back of his neck with his palm, his fine hand that doesn't make him wince when moved. And then he adds quietly, his voice barely a whisper that I don't think he'd expect me to hear, "That Hawthorne dude."

"What?" I ask, pretending that I didn't hear him.

"Nothing," he says, looking away.

Thankfully, my sister Prim chooses this moment to step into the room. She examines Peeta's large burn wound on his lower arm (the boy winces again when Prim taps her finger on his wound) and wipes it gently with a wet cloth once again. And then she hands him two tubes of ointment to Peeta's free hand. "These are for your burnt skin. Apply them three times a day so the skin will heal faster and less painful or itchy in the process. In a few weeks, it will totally heal and you won't even notice the scar. Get well soon, Peeta!"

Prim grins as Peeta nods, and she disappears to the front door just like that, leaving me and Peeta alone once again.

But I could swear I saw her wink at us.

"I guess I should head home now, " I say, standing up from the couch. "Though, I guess I will be back here in a few days, if you run out of the ointments."

Peeta looks troubled, as if he wants to say something more, but then he just smiles nervously at me. "Okay. Then maybe next time… we can… you know…" he stammers, "you can come here, and have some cups of tea... and cookies... and talk a bit more about, uh, hobbies and…" he gulps, "stuff?"

It's almost hard not to laugh at his expression, but I managed to do it anyway.

Then he takes something from his fine hand and reaches out to me to place the thing in my grasp. Money.

"Peeta, I—" I start, but he shakes his head.

"Take the money, please." And then he smiles again, less awkwardly this time. "Thank you, Katniss. I owe you a lot."

I want so badly to remind him about the bread he gave me years ago, that _this_ was nothing compared to the hope and life he gave me and my family. But I just sigh, because I'm not even sure he still remembers that event. How he even still knows my name, I don't understand.

Finally, I let the edge of my lips curl upwards to form a smile. "Actually, it was all Prim's work." All I did was wincing every time Peeta hissed at the pain while Prim pressed the wet cloth on the wound over and over again.

"Well, if you hadn't brought her here to take a look at my frosted cookies, I wouldn't be able to get her little help."

"Yeah…" I smirk as I make my way to the front door, finding it easier and easier to smile freely and joke around with him. "But I guess it was all my fault, you know, for distracting you from baking the buns… with my good look and all…"

He laughed as I sashayed outside and close the door. "See you later, Katniss!"

A wider grin spread out on my face, and I even start to giggle before realizing that this is _so _unlike me. I stop giggling, but the smile stays on my face.

Yeah. I'll meet him again in a few days, and maybe we can have a drink, some cookies, and talk about our hobbies… and stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I don't know why but I cried tears of joy writing this; I can't believe I finally write something that's not as depressing as my other stories. Hahaha. The last sentence spoken by Peeta is actually from a song called _Forever and Always _by Parachute._ _Apologies for any errors I might have written here. Reviews are welcome :)_

**Setting/timeline: **canon, post-Mockingjay

**Characters/Pairings: **Mrs. Everdeen, Peeta/Katniss, mentions of Prim

**Rating: **K

**Genre: **Romance/Family

**Warnings: **none

**Wordcount**: 744

**Summary:** The birth of the Mockingjay's daughter; the dandelion—the _hope_, the only thing stronger than fear. Katniss and Peeta know they'll be alright.

* * *

><p><strong>"Stronger Than Fear"<strong>

"One more push, Katniss. It's almost there."

I take a deep breath and do what Mother ordered me to. I push and groan and grip on Peeta's hand so hard it might be broken. And then my world just stops as I see my mother's smile, so I loosen my grip shakily.

"You did it, Katniss," Peeta whispers in awe. He kisses my temple, and then my forehead, and lastly, the top of my head so lovingly. "I love you so much."

I want to answer him, but it just feels like I don't have the strength so say anything. All I can do is continue to breathe heavily, and before I can finally move my lips to answer Peeta, my ears catch the sound of a cry. A baby's cry. My baby's cry. Peeta and I—_our—_baby. As if on cue, Mother comes back to us with a pink bundle in her arms, and she lays it on my lap. With my shaking hands—and Peeta's strong hands supporting me—I slowly lift it up to my chest. I turn at Peeta, who's grinning like crazy.

Mother stands on the other side of my bed and kisses my temple. "She's beautiful."

"She?" I ask, my voice croaking.

She nods. "Your daughter." And then she decides to leave me and Peeta with our newborn daughter.

_My daughter. Little baby Mellark. My baby girl_. Peeta kisses me on the lips. He lays down beside me on my bed, his legs slipping inside the blanket that's tucked around my body, and he wraps his arms around me—around _us_. I can't stop staring at my baby. My mind just goes blank and nothing else matters.

I was expecting to feel fear. The same fear I had been feeling since I was young, the reason why I had to keep Peeta waiting for fifteen years to finally have children. Fear of not being able to feed her. Fear of not being able to take good care of her. Fear of not being able to be a good mother. Fear of seeing her get reaped. Fear of having to see her struggle to survive in this cruel world. Fear of having family that I love with my whole heart only to have it ripped apart from my life.

But at this moment, I don't feel any fears. All I can taste is happiness of seeing this little creature, a _human_ that we conceived, a product of my and Peeta's love.

She blinks for a few times, and she stares up at me and Peeta. Her eyes are so blue, just like her father's. Mother was right, she's beautiful. She's gorgeous. She's the prettiest thing I've ever seen in my whole life. She yawns and shifts a little bit before drifting back to sleep. Peeta sighs dreamily before kissing my temple once again, and then he leans down to kiss our baby's head, and a drop of joyful tear runs down on my face.

"What do we call her?" he says softly. "Primrose?"

I shake my head. "No. I don't want her to be a ghost," I tell him. I run a finger down my daughter's blushing cheek, filled with life and hope. Suddenly, I smile. "Dandelion."

Peeta stares at me. "Dandelion?"

I nod. "Dandelion. Because she's a part of you, and you're my hope—my dandelion." Dandelion. A hope. The only thing that's stronger than fear. The promise that life can go on. That it can be good again someday. And only them, Peeta and my baby, only them can give me that. "Dandelion Mellark."

Though it's odd, naming your daughter after dandelion, the name sounds pretty to me as it slips on my tongue. This time, Peeta gives me another kiss on my lips, longer than the previous one, and I feel him smile against my lips. Suddenly, he pulls away as I feel his hand twitches.

I grip his arms tightly, squeezing it reassuringly. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them his eyes stares straight at mine.

His voice is shaky when he speaks. "This is Dandelion Mellark, our baby, our hope, our promise that everything will someday be okay again, our proof that we survived, the proof of our love—the prove that you love me, forever and always, through the good, the bad, and the ugly; real or not real?"

I don't have to hesitate to answer.

"Real."


End file.
